


Late-Night Thoughts

by Wildest_Woofy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Intrusive Thoughts, No beta we die like hoomans, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildest_Woofy/pseuds/Wildest_Woofy
Summary: Castiel isn’t himself this particular night, and Dean wants to figure out the exact reason why. Even if it leads to an unpleasant—albeit necessary—conversation.
Kudos: 4





	Late-Night Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo~! I rewatched S15 E3 of Supernatural, and my heart just... b r o k e. So I wrote this story to vent my feelings as well as create my own conclusion to this mess that seriously, seriously needed to be addressed. It’s not perfect, and I’m probably super out of character, but I tried my best! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> P.S. This can be romantic or platonic, that’s up to you guys.

Castiel sat on a bed in a miscellaneous room in the bunker, eyes focused on the floor, a tired—almost sad—expression on his face. His legs dangled over the edge, and his hands rested in his lap as he just sat there, doing nothing but simply thinking. 

This was when Dean entered the room, green eyes lighting up a tad when he spotted the angel—he was looking for him—and he immediately made his way over, taking a seat next to him. He rested his head against the other’s shoulder affectionately, however, he didn’t earn much of a response; all Cas did was slightly turn his head to look at him. 

And all he asked was, “What do you need, Dean?” His voice, however, was soft, tired, and more robotic than it usually was. As though he were running on autopilot. Only asking out of obligation. 

This confused the Winchester, who slightly nuzzled into the crook of the other’s neck—attempting to get more of a reaction. However, to his dismay, there was none.   
He squinted his eyes, slowly straightening his posture as he leaned off the other. 

“I don’t need anythin’, Cas.” Dean decided to respond, but tilted his head to the side. “What’s wrong with ya? You’re... not yourself.” He spoke, concern lacing his tone of voice. 

But the angel merely looked away, focusing on the wall instead. 

“Cas..?”   
The other lightly placed a hand on his angelic friend’s shoulder—a hand that still earned him no real reaction.   
“Hey- hey, what’s wrong? Ya can tell me.” 

Yet there was still nothing but silence. 

Dean furrowed his brow, leaning back a tad. “And I, uh...” Sucking in a deep breath as he rested his hands in his own lap. “I won’t get mad. I promise. And... and if I do, just smack me. Knock some sense into me.”

A few minutes passed. 

“Your words hurt.”  
Castiel finally muttered out, gruff voice much quieter than it usually was. And he still didn’t bother to look over at Dean—he couldn’t. 

The Winchester felt his body tense for a moment; this was about him. He didn’t know how to feel about that. Guilty? Angry?   
..  
Concerned.   
“What.. what do ya mean?”

The angel let out a soft sigh, completely turning away from the other now, crossing his legs on the bed. “Dean..” He breathed out, hanging his head. “Every time something goes wrong, if I have even the slightest connection to it, you blame me. You project your anger onto me. Sometimes it’s Sam, but you’re more forgiving with him. Because he’s your brother.” 

Dean went strangely silent at this, not entirely sure of how to respond. He wanted to tell him it wasn’t true—or further encourage the idea that it really was his fault, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew neither of those were true.   
Nor were they right to say. 

Castiel took the silence as his cue to continue. “I... understand that I’ve made some mistakes, Dean. In fact, I’ve made many of them.” Shutting his eyes during his momentary pause. “When I was still allied with heaven, I did awful things—followed through with horrid orders. Some of these I don’t even recall, considering how many times my brain was dug into. I was manipulated, and I believed in false ideals.” He sucked in a deep breath as he recalled these events.

“You and I both know my worst mistakes were made when I attempted to repair Heaven.” The angel went on. “Back then, I did the most regrettable things of my entire existence. I hurt so many people. So many innocent humans, so many of my brothers and sisters. My friends. Dean... I hurt you. And I told myself—I told myself it was for the greater good, but I knew, deep down, that it wasn’t true. Yet I did all of those things anyway. And I am truly... very sorry. And I have been attempting to make amends for that. But I know there’s no fixing it. There’s no undoing it.

“Which is why I’ve been attempting to improve myself, to make the future brighter than the past. I’ve been attempting to help you and Sam, I’ve been... attempting to make you both as happy as I possibly can. But I’ve had some trouble.”

Dean remained silent, allowing the other to continue talking. Though, his heart... broke more and more with every word. He hadn’t...  
...  
His gaze trailed down to the floor as he sucked in a breath. 

“Dean,” Castiel began his next sentence, resisting the urge to look back and check if the other was still even there. “It is incredibly difficult to believe that you are ‘making a difference’ when you perceive yourself as a disgraceful creature unworthy of something as beautiful as life.”

He finally gave in, chancing a glance behind him, blue eyes meeting green ones for just a moment before he looked away again. At least Dean was hearing him.   
“I do not know if you’ve heard what some of the creatures we’ve faced said about me, however, some have called me ‘self-loathing.’ And... it is.. accurate.” He seemed shameful, admitting this. As though he viewed it as some sort of weakness. 

“I have nothing good to say about myself. All I can focus on are my mistakes, regrets, and guilt—yet I still attempt to help. However... I continue to make mistakes, or sometimes I do something very slightly wrong. And this... that makes you incredibly angry. If it leads, or is somehow connected to, something bigger, you unleash that anger onto me. You say... horrible things. Things that only feed into how I already feel about myself. And perhaps, Dean, perhaps you’re right. About everything you have said. Perhaps I am the one who is wrong.”

Castiel looked down at himself, a hand slowly going to his chest, clutching his heart. “But that only makes it hurt more.” He muttered softly, breathing out another sigh.   
“Dean, I cannot do this any longer. It was much easier when I couldn’t feel at all—but human emotions, they’re complex. They’re confusing. They... hurt. They make you feel as though you can’t breathe. They make you feel as though you’re confined, with no way to get free. And I am unsure of how to continue.”

The angel went silent after that, and Dean sat there for a few moments, processing all the information he had just been given, as well as waiting for Castiel to continue. But he didn’t. He didn’t, which made the Winchester realize it was his turn to speak—if he had anything good at all to say. 

“Cas..” He began, slowly, unsure of himself. “I..” There were things he had to address. As much as it hurt him to, it was necessary. “I’m sorry. For everythin’ I’ve ever said to ya. And... I know this isn’t gonna be some magic fix to the damage already caused, but.. I just wanna tell ya that.. what.. what I’ve said in the past, it isn’t true. They were words created by.. years of pent-up emotions, and I shoulda never taken it out on ya. Ya didn’t deserve any of it.” Was.. that even a good start?

“And I understand what it feels like, Cas, to hate yourself so much that ya don’t believe you’re even worth it anymore. But ya have to keep fightin’. Ya have to keep pushin’ through and keep remindin’ yourself why you’re even doin’ this. Ya have to try to remember the good things ya’ve done. And- and I’ll help ya with that, Cas, I will. If I played a part in creatin’ this problem, then I want to play one in fixin’ it.” 

The angel sat there for a few moments, shoulders quaking as he refused to speak, refused to look at Dean. This... this reaction wasn’t the one he was expecting. He was expecting the other to reinforce his thoughts, not make them completely crumble; not throw an entirely new concept at him. 

“Cas. . . We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of, ya know? But these things are said and done. They’re issues that have been solved, they’re in the past now. And yes, we may continue to do things that hurt others, but that’s just a part of existin.’ As long as we try our hardest to fix them... and try to learn from those mistakes.. then.. that’s what counts, right?

“Those things I said to ya.. I’m not proud of them. But, Cas—I want to change. I don’t want to hurt ya like that anymore. I don’t want to be like that anymore. So I will change, Cas. I’ll do my best to be better.”  
Pausing for a moment.   
“On one condition.”

Castiel sniffled softly, covering his face with his hands. Why.. why was he feeling like this now?  
He didn’t dare speak.   
Afraid that an unwelcome sound would escape his lips. 

Dean took the other’s silence as his cue to continue, and, thus, did so.   
“I’ll change as long as ya promise to try to as well. Be kinder to yourself, Cas. Ya can help me, and I can help ya. Just... please.” His green eyes seemed begging as he stared at the back of his good friend. “Will ya let me? Will ya help me and let me help ya..?”

There was no response from the other for a few minutes, and Dean felt his heart break more and more with every passing second. However, soon enough, Castiel slowly turned—shoulders still trembling, tears sliding down his cheeks—now facing Dean. And, despite the shakiness in his every movement, he nodded his head, sniffling once more. 

Then he fell against the Winchester, burying his face into his shoulder as his arms very lightly wrapped around him. He didn’t know how much he desperately needed to hear those words come out of Dean’s mouth—he didn’t know how much he needed to feel that compassion from the other; and he didn’t know how comforting it could be. 

And Dean—Dean held the other close, arms wrapping protectively around him. More than glad that the other entrusted him with another chance. A chance he knew he didn’t deserve, but was overjoyed to have.   
And he did his best to comfort the other—rubbing his back in circles, whispering comforting words. But the most comforting thing he said that night, something that needed to be heard and trusted by the both of them, was:

_“It’s going to be okay.”_


End file.
